Some days off, Amsterdam and a Visit with a Friend

August 3, 2012 • 2012, europe 2012, germany, netherlands, phil and alex

I'm getting there. If I gauge my journalling progress by how many more folders of photos I need to mine to illustrate our vacation, I'm getting there. Back here in the real world, I was struck down by a nasty little virus for the last day and a half and am just now able to nibble on cheerios and sip gatorade to try and get my strength back. Ugh.

So, as they say, now back to our story...

On Thursday, July 19, the day after we returned from France, Eric flew home to actually work for a living. I know. Bummer. I was grateful he could come and stay as long as he did, though. The rest of us had a flop day and did laundry and accompanied my sister-in-law to the base to visit the commissary and PX, where we got to hand over our passports for fancy clip-on visitor badges. Every base we visited did this process a little differently. I was surprised by this, but I guess it has to do with the purpose of the base, the length of stay and the fact that the security duties at the bases are sometimes outsourced to local companies. Anyway, at the PX, the kids got a couple of things and I found a rockin' long skirt for SIX bucks! It was fun to get a taste of the everyday life my brother and his family are experiencing while living in Germany. They have the mixed blessing of living in a very German/Dutch area, with the bases where they go for services about 30 minutes away in any direction. This means they get to experience more of the culture, but it also means a certain amount of isolation since they don't speak the languages a whole lot yet and there are few other military families nearby. They are making the best of it, though and I am full of admiration for them taking on this adventure.

Friday of that week, we headed to Amsterdam to get a taste of the Big City. My word. Amsterdam really is BIG in all senses of the word. It is vibrant and diverse and yes, there really are sex shops and marijuana all over the place, yippee! But, there were also lots of beautiful old buildings, a harmonious sense of new energy built on a strong history, and completely different side of Europe than we saw in Normandy or the tiny corner of Germany my brother calls home. Amsterdam was all crowds and color and move, move, move! It was actually bewildering until we got our bearings.

We didn't have much time so we took a canal boat ride, which was a fun way to see a lot of the sights of Amsterdam in a short time. There was much of amazement and wonder at the ancient architecture and story of how this city was built on nothing. The land was reclaimed from the water and they made a city. I can hardly even imagine that kind of vision-to look at a stretch of water and swamp and think: "Beautiful city that will last for centuries. Yup. Let's get started!" It's even more astonishing to me when I consider how long it has stood on little more than shifting sands and many piers and pylons.

Here are the photos:

The main rail station. Not a super-old building, but cool,
nonetheless

One of the wonderful old churches in
Amsterdam

People filled the market streets, stepping aside for the
many bikes and scooters to whiz by. We saw everyone
on bikes, from men in elegant
business suits carrying shiny briefcases and women in the
highest heels you can imagine all the way to moms and dads
carrying kids and groceries in ingenius cargo bikes.

One of the many markets in the city.

By the canal.

Bikes and people riding them will remain in my mind as
one of the iconic images of this unique city.

Cool old church from 1600's juxtaposed
with sleek, modern apartments, all in the
same courtyard.

More contrasts: the elegant window grate caught my eye, as
did the exotic guy in the leather jacket.

Love. This. Baby.

The underpass to get to the train from where we parked.
When we came through the first time, there were two hip and
talented buskers playing their guitars. On the way back to
the car, the niece and nephew took the opportunity for some
impromptu graffiti-sliding.

That evening, when we got back home, this was the view we enjoyed across the street from my brother's house. Ahh. Evan commented that he may like small-town Europe better than big-city Europe, and I may agree with him.

Saturday we went to the Farmer's market in Sittard and did some shopping for souvenirs and gifts. Sittard is another town, like Bayeux, that perfectly captures the Europe I have dreamed of all these months, and we had a lovely day picking out bread, fresh produce, scarves and other goodies for eating and taking home.

On Sunday, we went to church in a another small town in the Netherlands and got to hear parts of the service in English and parts in Dutch. That was very interesting. That evening, after a perfect American cook-out courtesy of my brother, we headed south to visit friends. We will be back to Schalbruch before we fly home, but it was a good time for a new adventure. We had so much fun with the family. My kids were absolute STARS with the small ones but I could tell they were hankering for some company their own age after 2 weeks (the near fistfight was a clue). We first stopped at Felicity's house, about 2.5 hours from my brother. It was so very good to see her and the family. Good friends are treasures, whether in the next street over or on the next continent over. She graciously housed us for a perfectly refreshing overnight visit before we headed down further south to Amy's place.

About the autobahns: I was nervous but there was no cause. They are awesome. Fun to drive, perfectly sensible and you do not have to go 150 mph if you don't want to. Many people settle down at about 85-90 mph, which is often the speed of traffic on I-95, so it felt pretty normal. Plus, the unlimited speed had the benefit of stretching the traffic out and leaving lots of open road, so it actually felt safer and more orderly than the crazy roads here. I maxed out at about 100 mph on one stretch of my trip, and it was perfectly peachy.

August 1, 2012 • 2012, europe 2012, france, normandy

We lingered in France. We couldn't help it. Instead of rushing right home, we made plans to head to Caen, the local city and the Castle of William the Conqueror. But before I get to that I want to say more about Bayeux.

As if you couldn't tell, I loved Normandy. Loved the very air. We were so near the sea that the breezes never stopped. It was cool and soft there. Simple beauty was easy to find everywhere among the commonplace. The town of Bayeux enchanted me and is someplace I'd like to go again. Especially since I haven't seen that tapestry yet (It has been communicated to me what a failure this decision was, but I stand by our relaxed attitude toward sightseeing-it was a vacation, not a research assignment, don't you know?).

The city center of Bayeux is a parade of old buildings set so close to the narrow streets that sometimes the sidewalk dwindles to mere inches. A few of those streets allow an American mini-van to go through with only the barest centimeter of clearance on either side, and we watched, amazed, as my brother's tires grazed the curbs.

In Bayeux, the river Aure slips placidly through the center of a town built right on its banks, and I loved being able to walk near it so easily. That is one thing I noticed in many of the places we visited: the preservation of town centers. I saw very little of suburbia in Europe. Instead, many towns have barred cars from the busiest shopping areas or left the streets narrow and you have to get out into the air and INTERACT with the world. So many bicycles. So many outdoor cafes. So much of talking together and walking together. That was special and something that felt right and easy to me. I didn't just see it in the touristy towns, either. It appears to be part of the way of life there, and a part I think is worth preserving.

So, here are a few more images of Bayeux to try and communicate the look and feel of the place and to remind myself again that this was authentic, not a movie set!

On to Caen, and the Chateau de Caen, palace of the Duke of Normandy, better known as William the Conqueror. Many people know the date 1066 and this guy is why. Right in the middle of the city, the remains of his impressive compound remain. People relax on the grassy hills outside. It is open to the public, so you can walk the ramparts around the remains of the chemise, exchequer and keep. I really like being in buildings and ruins that have existed for so long and been witnesses to the comings and goings of so many real, human feet. It makes me feel that the world and its vast and complex history are connected to me, rather than only being abstract. It's a fascinating place and I'm glad we went. On the way home, we stopped at a rest stop with a convenience store and I got my last loaf of French bread in FRANCE. Yes, even at the convenience stores, the bread is awesome.

Ramparts with flags flying

We lost each other to find parking, but we took up watch
on the great wall and saw them coming.

St. Pierre Church

We had awesome Italian food right across the street from
the castle. That just never gets old.

Caen's vibrant, car-less shopping district

The Exchequer-a hall for exhibits and assemblies. We
almost had the kids convinced it was where Wm. played
basketball.

No matter what we saw, the family times really were the
best parts.

And so we take our leave of France.

But not without one more bit of bread.

July 28, 2012 • 2012, europe 2012, france, normandy

I'm back online with my photos and will continue to document our various adventures till everything is written down.

Tuesday, July 17 found us still in Normandy and trying to decide between a hurried trip to Paris or a more languid day spent exploring the other sites related to D-day. The slower pace of Normandy won out, in spite of the serious subject matter and the obvious draw of the most famous city in Europe.

And so we went to Pointe du Hoc and Utah Beach. The former is the site of a German gun emplacement that had to be taken out by a small band of Rangers who scaled sheer cliffs and then were left on their own for two days to defend their position. The latter is the other location of the Allied endeavor to make a stand and finish the war in Europe.

Our day was gray and misty, which to me was a fitting way to experience these places. Omaha Beach and the American Cemetery were all brightness and hope and shining patriotism. We visited them under perfect blue skies that lifted my heart. Pointe du Hoc and Utah Beach, in contrast, were raw and scarred and primal in their reminder of the ugliness of these battles. I thought of all the stories that boil a lot of the grandeur and bigness of Operation Overlord down to just trying to get out alive and maybe take a couple of your buddies with you. The courage is the same, and I think, the larger motivation, but in the end, it was brutality and blood and danger and the cold ocean and hot, burning war. That was the price paid by both sides. These sites hammered that fact home to my heart and mind with no doubts. I liked the fact that Pointe du Hoc has been left as it remained in those days, with massive bomb craters and gun turrets blasted to bits. Bunkers with bullet holes in the walls bear testimony to the horror of standing watch over the sea in a tiny concrete room and not knowing what the next moments might bring.

In my sentimentality, I was touched by the skin of grass and flowers, now grown over the Pointe, that have slightly softened this place but have left the scars of battle fully visible. Again was made manifest the cycle of moving forward yet letting the past whisper its stories. It was an eerie yet beautiful place.

By the time we got to Utah Beach, it was just cold and blustery, but we ventured out anyway. This hallowed ground has a collection of memorials and plaques from various organizations and towns, most being simple expressions of gratitude for bravery and practicality that got the job done. It seemed to me to be a people's monument rather than a government's; personal and immediate, with none of the manicured polish of the American Cemetery. I liked that a lot.

We ended the day with a perfect Country French meal in Ste. Marie du Mont, which has given itself over to be a memorial to the days of liberation. There are placards all over town that provide a walking tour of the gritty and horrific history of this first city to be captured by the Allies and the months of equipment transport that followed.

Here are the photos: